


Sanguine Desire

by apostate (394percentdone)



Series: Three Leaf Clover [1]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Biting, Other, ah the intimacy of a vampire drinking your blood am i right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27146797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/394percentdone/pseuds/apostate
Summary: Somehow Marsaili expected his hands to be softer. Delicate as they looked, used to holding wine glasses and ink quills and not much else. A dagger leaves callouses, they suppose, but even the pads of his fingers are rough where they slip off the tunic Marsaili wears under their armor. Rough and tender, two unexpected things though really what should Marsaili expect about Astarion.
Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Character(s)
Series: Three Leaf Clover [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981582
Comments: 4
Kudos: 82





	Sanguine Desire

Somehow Marsaili expected his hands to be softer. Delicate as they looked, used to holding wine glasses and ink quills and not much else. A dagger leaves callouses, they suppose, but even the pads of his fingers are rough where they slip off the tunic Marsaili wears under their armor. Rough and tender, two unexpected things though really what should Marsaili expect about Astarion. 

Dusty moonlight filters in through the tent flap Marsaili left partially tied, the top strings dangling down to reveal the partially full moon. Silvery darkness. It falls on Astarion’s pale skin and practically glows, glints in all his curls and reflects like a devil in his eyes. Smirking bastard. “Admiring the view? Can’t say I blame you.”

Oh insufferable. Grinning crookedly Marsaili spreads their hands over Astarion’s shoulders, moves up towards his neck and Astarion bends forward to meet them halfway. For all his hands may be rough his lips are as soft as Marsaili wondered. Even if his kiss is anything but. Tastes like wine, rich and dark as blood, like the poison he favors on his blades. His teeth catch at Marsaili’s lip and draw them open with a sigh. Hands wandering. Exploring.

Heart-racing and really they’ve only just begun. Astarion pulls away from their lips only to trail a line of kisses from the corner of their mouth to their jaw. Soft chuckles in their ear, teeth brushing their skin. _Sharp_ teeth. Sighing shakily Marsaili raises one of their hands to his hair and bunches their fingers in his loose curls. Tilts their head back and invites him lower. 

Invitation accepted as Astarion slides his attention to their neck. Lowers the both of them to Marsaili’s bedroll, Marsaili spreading their legs to accommodate Astarion between them. Nails digging into his scalp and he pauses. 

“If you’re about to make a quip about savoring wine slowly-” Cut off by laughter Marsaili tries, unsuccessfully, to glare at the top of Astarion’s hair. 

“Darling I would never.” He places another kiss to their neck, a slow press of lips against their pulse. “I just need to restrain myself.” 

Wraps a leg around his waist, “If you need permission, ask. What did you say earlier about not coming over to talk?”

“Permission what a funny word.” His words ghost over their skin, hovering in the silver air between them. 

Marsaili spreads their hand wide over the back of his skull, breathing the night air deeply to cool off enough to think clearly. “Astarion you have two options, spit out whatever is eating at you or get to eating _me_ already.” Pressing their hips up to his to bring home their point, out of all things they didn’t expect a chatty lover should really have been on the list. 

“You do have a way with words don’t you.” Chuckling, kisses with teeth barely hidden behind soft lips. “And you don’t even know what they mean.” 

Alright, enough. Marsaili moves to sit up but Astarion’s hand on their chest stops them. “I didn’t want to tell you this because I’m not sure… How you’ll react.” His fingers rest in the valley of between their breasts, calluses on tender skin. “But. It was going to come up anyway. I’m too weak for it not to. Do you trust me?” 

Air stilling with Marsaili’s breathing.

“ _Please_.” Fingertips pressing gently. “I need you to trust me.”

In the moonlight Astarion is beautiful, open in ways Marsaili doesn’t see in the daylight. With his head bowed and eyes averted he almost looks like he could be praying. A thing of darkness awaiting judgement. 

“I’ve already made you beg for me once tonight Astarion,” Marsaili raises a hand to his, folding their fingers around his palm and lifting it to press a kiss to his knuckles. “I won’t make you do it again.” 

Only waiting long enough for Astarion to meet their gaze, coy smile dragging at Marsaili’s lips. “At least not tonight.”

The cocky smirk returns to Astarion’s lips and Marsaili wants to kiss it off. “I haven’t even told you why to trust me yet.” 

“Whatever it is I think I can agree to it with you sitting so kindly between my legs.” Marsaili nudges him with a knee and raises an eyebrow at him. 

“It _is_ funny to bring up the phrase eating you. There are so many ways I could do so.” Before Astarion can get any further Marsaili nudges him again except this time with quite a bit more force behind their knobby knee. “ _Ouch_ okay fine. Fine. It’s blood. I’m talking about blood.” 

Blood. Marsaili laughs, they should have known. “You’re a fucking vampire? Is that why you nearly died crossing the river?” 

This time Astarion is the one kneeing them in the gut. “It wasn’t _funny_ and yes. I just need a little taste, I swear.” 

Shaking their head with the last of their laughter, smile yet stretching their face. “Why didn’t you ask sooner if you felt so bad?” Marsaili tilts their head, exposing their neck for the second time tonight, “Take what you need. I don’t mind.” 

Don’t mind at all, not with Astarion and his rough hands and tender teeth. Quite the opposite, really, if they’re going to be honest with each other. 

“I- Really?” Almost dumbfounded, like he can’t believe what Marsaili is offering. 

Tugs on his hand, pulling him back where they were not minutes before. Marsaili lays down on the bedroll with Astarion hovering over them, “Really.”

It doesn’t take them saying it twice for Astarion to lower his head. Gently Marsaili returns their hands to his hair, cradling Astarion’s head in the crook of their neck. Carefully Astarion places a hand around the other side of Marsaili’s neck and breathes in deeply. Teeth scraping softly. 

And then he bites. 

Icy pinpricks dig into their flesh and Marsaili gasps, chilly pain washing into feverish pleasure with Astarion’s lips moving on their skin. Blood singing, leaving, Marsaili twists their fingers in Astarion’s hair with a breathy sigh. It’s an intimate thing, it would be even without their hips canting together in rhythm with Marsaili’s racing heart, a gut deep feeling of connection. Their blood on Astarion’s tongue sweeping over the bite marks on their neck.

Silver moonlight on curly white hair, Astarion’s weight pins Marsaili with only the freedom to writhe under his hands. His grip on their neck is velvet covered steel, tender and unforgiving, his other hand roams down their side following the line of their curves and Marsaili melts under him. 

Whispers in the dark, Astarion’s name on their lips and his lips sucking a bruise on their throat. Marsaili digs their nails in his hair, clutching Astarion to them as if they needed to keep him close. Heart throbbing in their chest, each beat fading sweetly into the next. It doesn’t even hurt, not anymore, just a soothing stream of life flowing from them into him. 

Life. Marsaili’s grip on Astarion’s hair loosens, the sigh of his name turning from breathy to breathless. No longer a plea, now a question. “Astarion, Ah-Astarion?” 

A weak sound even in the quiet space between lovers. Astarion’s hand on their neck doesn’t relent and neither do his lips. 

“Astarion” Weaker, softer. “ _Please._ ” Their hand falls. Fingers landing spread on Astarion’s back unable to do more than feel the raised scars and smooth skin under them. It still doesn't hurt. Not even when they’re dying. 

It’s a better way to go than the mindflayer tadpole. 

Astarion shudders at their touch. His fingers relax, their iron grip softening to a caress, his lips leaving Marsaili’s neck with a gentle kiss. “Marsaili,” another kiss in the hollow between their collar bones, “Darling,” another on the corner of their mouth. “You are intoxicating.”

Laughing with what little air they can catch, “And here I thought you said you didn’t like that wine.” Marsaili curls their fingers, pressing so slightly against his back. They hadn’t been mistaken in their weakness a moment ago, there were scars there. Long, thin ones, cut deeply and healed poorly. 

Astarion pulls back just out of range, Marsaili’s hands fall as cool air replaces heat, and in the slivers of moonlight crossing his face Marsaili can make out the thick drop of blood on the edge of his lip. Without thinking they reach out and wipe it off with their thumb, taking it into their mouth. Not thinking until Astarion makes a noise like he’s been gutted and Marsaili raises their gaze from his lips to find his eyes blown wide in the darkness. 

A coy smile spreads across Marsaili’s lips, metallic blood on their tongue. _Their_ blood. “Hm, a bit bitter for my tastes.” 

Dipping his head back to the curve of their jaw, words breathed over sensitive skin, “And here I found you quite sweet.” His hands cup around their neck, slide down to their shoulders, “Though I have yet to find many things sweeter than what is given freely.” 

Marsaili hums under his attention, coming alive under his hands, no strength returning to their limbs just yet but they don’t need it here. Only the trust they already gave alongside their blood. 

Exploring touches linger in the curve under their ribs and Astarion brings his lips back to their skin following paths traced by finger tips. Delicate things, sweet things. Marsaili’s hand finds its way back to Astarion’s hair while the other curls into the fur of their bedroll, no guidance, no control, just touch as he makes his way lower. 

Nips at the raised line of their hip bone. “If I may, I recall saying something about the many ways I could devour you.” 

If they didn’t know any better Marsaili would think they’re floating. A weightless pleasure overtakes them, fills their head with nothing except the feeling of Astarion’s skin on theirs. “I may not be up for anything… Strenuous.” 

“Are you alright darling?” Astarion retreats instantly, allowing cool air to swirl between them. 

Ah, that wasn’t exactly what they wanted. “I’m fine, nothing I haven’t experienced after a few too many drinks, I just.” Marsaili pauses, cards their fingers softly through Astarion’s hair down to cup his cheek, stretching a bit more than is comfortable but it's worth it when he slips his head to the side and kisses their palm. “I just wouldn’t expect too much from me tonight.”

“Oh, my dear,” Astarion’s smirk returns in full force and he tilts his head further into their hand. “I do believe I owe you for the gift you’ve given me. If you’ll allow me.” 

Well Marsaili isn’t about to argue with him. Their smile starts in their chest but spreads to their lips, the corners of their eyes and the crinkle of their nose. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“It will be.” 

Astarion may not be warm to the touch but the whisper of his promise sends heat racing up Marsaili’s spine. It matches the sparks in their blood and the glint in Astarion’s eyes as returns his attention to Marsaili’s hips. 

Small bites to sensitive skin, fingers circling their clit. Marsaili doesn’t _whimper_ but the noise they do make is close. They dig their nails into Astarion’s scalp for a second time, catch their breath as their lungs catch fire. A dangerous thing to trust something so beautiful. 

Teasing touches, close but not close enough. Fingertips on the inside of their thigh and lips at the junction of their hip. Toying with his food. Marsaili laughs under their breath at the thought, whines at Astarion’s answering nip. Flames under their skin all entirely at his mercy. But trust is a funny thing, given like permission and held like a promise. 

And Astarion doesn’t seem to have much patience for teasing. Not tonight. His fingers press at their entrance, slide inside and make room for his tongue. Marsaili moans outright, the noise slipping from their lips to the night and the open tent flap, oh he truly meant to devour them. 

Marsaili lifts their legs and locks their ankles around Astarion’s waist, their thighs bracketing his ears. Hair still tangled in their hand. They shiver with every twist of his fingers, flick of his tongue. Gives themselves twice over. Lets Astarion take his time and open them slowly, sweetly. At his own pace and pleasure. 

Building the pyre inside Marsaili’s chest, a fire hot enough to burn them both. 

Astarion pulls away only when Marsaili’s hips twitch with anticipation, wet heat on his smile when he looks up at them. Loosens their legs to prop himself up enough to line himself up with their entrance. Hovering over Marsaili like he did when the night began, a thing of darkness and blood and desire. 

Kisses them in the same breath. Fire ignites under Marsaili’s skin and flows through their veins, ebbs and sparks with the drag of Astarion’s hips as he pulls back and thrusts again. His lips on theirs stealing the air from their lungs. Tasting them as he promised.

Marsaili can taste it both. _Their_ blood. Their _desire_ . Lingering sweetness on Astarion’s lips and copper between his teeth. _Their darkness_ shared in the night together. Savored as softly as he promised. 

Moonlight and kisses, Astarion finds Marsaili’s free hand bunched around fur and slips his fingers between theirs. Doesn’t break their kiss. Breathes into it instead, murmurs Marsaili’s name like an offering. A chatty lover and a tender one. Mismatched hands and touch. Astarion rolls his hips against theirs and Marsaili groans. 

If they were floating earlier they could be drowning now. Each thrust of Astarion’s hips sends a wave of pleasure washing over them, every bite at their lip, squeeze of his fingers in theirs. All together overwhelming, not enough. So close and barely there. 

Pleasure as he promised. 

Marsaili falls off the edge without they were standing on it. Gasps into Astarion’s kiss and jerks their hips. Catching him by surprise too but the low chuckle against Marsaili’s lips isn’t a surprise in the slightest. He pulls out, finding his own release in hot ropes across Marsaili’s stomach. Breaks their kiss only to press one to Marsaili’s cheek. 

“You truly are a wonder.” Astarion’s voice is soft and butterflies take flight in Marsaili’s chest. Fluttering pests. But.

They let Astarion clean them up, if they had been tired from the blood loss before its back with a vengeance countered only in part by the warm haze of please. Exhaustion pulls at their eyelids in a contented kind of way, trance will be exceptionally easy to fall into tonight. Marsaili catches Astarion’s wrist when he’s finished, tangles their fingers together and sighs. 

“In the morning, can I ask you a few things?” Night may be a place where words are whispered but Marsaili’s thoughts are thoroughly wrecked. Come sunrise, the questions they’re still forming will be clearer, easier to ask. 

Astarion raises an eyebrow, “In the morning?” 

Blinking, “Yes?” Realization seeps in through the fog in their head and Marsaili lowers their gaze slightly. Drops his hand. “You… Would you like to stay, tonight?”

If he doesn’t Marsaili won’t force him. A cold bedroll is nothing they haven’t experienced before. Just, perhaps not as deeply. They keep their eyes on the empty air of the tent, not trusting the expression they could give away. It’s entirely his decision. 

Astarion’s fingers cup their cheek. “I think I would.” 


End file.
